Fatal Hope

The day of my death will be the most peaceful day of my life…

Barry

When is a Bear not a Bear

When it is Barry, the Bear with whom my flat is shared

Onto him I transfer my crazy, my cool and my abject insanity

Making him everything I imagine my messed up mentality to be …and then some more

Jpeg

Another snippet of something, one day to make a whole

“I’m going to have to arrest you” casually informed the smartly dressed officer, sitting next to Edgar without invitation “and for the courtesy I’ll take a large glass of something and a second glass for him” reaching for a credit chip from some random side pocket in the smartly pressed trousers he wore, three pockets later along with several clumps of dust in the process “that reminds me; you’ll have to give me your gun too” the barman taking time away from wiping up some blood that had been recently added the bar top to produce two drinks.

Edgar idly raised his hand, slowly using the other one to lower three fingers and the thumb and left the gesture there on public display as he proceeded to throw the drink down his throat “I’ll take a walk with you” nodding with minimal effort towards the poignantly lingering gesture “but that’s my reply to giving you ol’faithful” a slight sigh released as he casually flicked a stray tooth at the barman, who paused his frustratedly focused cleaning efforts to just glare in Edgar’s direction “this glass is defective, I need a new one”.

The barman slammed a bottle with a resounding thud onto the bar, the patrons within range winching in reaction to the sound but it was telling of the crowds energetic nature that no one bothered lifting their heads “This is you sober” as having got Edgar’s full attention he gestured with a hand at the smudged and streaky red marks on the bar top, furiously waving a pinkish cloth in Edgar’s face too “and this is my afternoon treat” the hand that pointed out the red marks moving in the direction of the officer to Edgar’s left “and that is going to make it worse” agitatedly switching from generic hand gesturing to actively pointing to a trio of gentleman who had just walked in “so drink the fuck up and be arrested already” a temperamental tone to challenge the coldness of ice.

The officer had meanwhile opened the rather poignantly presented bottle and poured himself another glass of generic alcohol, taking time to drink it in-between scanning looks around the room “Someone hit the AC, cause someone just turned the heating up” noting the presence of, without directly looking at, the trio of smartly suited gentleman blocking the bars prime exit “and I agree with the barman” flicking a momentary smile towards no particular person “you sober; bad news”.

Edgar turned his head towards the three new additions to the bar, his stonily blank face remaining unchanged as only his quick scanning sharp eyes showed activity “You fellows playing statues or are you going to give us a show” Edgar observantly picking out the vital details of each man, humorously noting that each had a different tie; lacky one wore a horrific purple one with some deranged flower design so was mentally labelled ‘Mr Purple’, lackey two showing surprising style with a subtle red stripped affair to match his tailored dark grey shirt and black suit, now labelled ‘Mr Stylish’ and then to the last; the head of the bunch proudly puffing out his gym worthy chest that was tightly encased in a classic black suit, white shirt and slim lined black tie as Edgar mentally labelled him ‘Black Tie’.

Black Tie spoke after an eternity of staring at the duo of Edgar and his officer friend, both men maybe picking up a hint of frustration in his voice “So you messed up my employees dental job, nose too” eyes aimed upwards as he silently mouthed something “oh yes that’s it; and you knocked him half stupid” the lackeys grunting together in some macho demonstration of power, seemingly backing up their bosses loudly projected tone “and now I need to resolve the matter in a fashion befitting the events here as…”

Black tie had stopped mid-sentence, his eyes now locked with focused glare at Edgar’s puppet motioning hand “Shut up preacher, we get the sermon” taking his merry time between rude interruptions to offer up an open glass to the officer, who reactively filled it on cue “and if he is half stupid now, your definition is infinitely more optimistic than mine” Edgar draining his glass with painfully drawn out slowness as he again interrupted Black Tie’s attempt to speak with a raised hand this time “and lastly; I’m about to be arrested so move” now rifling through his pockets to fish something out, Edgar defiantly ignoring Black Tie’s increasingly agitated reaction whilst flashing a perversely cheery looking smile.

Mr Purple stepped in front of Black Tie on command, taking the time it took to cover the few metres distance between him and Edgar to reveal an large ugly blaster, the engorged design more reminiscent of a starship engine component than a streamlined weapon “You want to make fun of my friend, be the big man and taunt my boss like some circus freak” a severely twisted grin forming on Mr Purple’s taut facial features as he worded another increasingly angry blast “not circus freak cause that’s too normal, let’s say ‘harbinger’ cause they so fucked they…” the following silence was followed by a telling slump noise, Mr Purple’s carcass now awkwardly lain out on the floor as a gargled mix of blood and froth escaped his mouth with a painfully stammered cough.

Edgar kept his drawn weapon dead focused on the two remaining thugs, so purposely slow to climb off his barstool that the officer had time to covertly check his watch, Edgar now bullet straight and with a haze of black mist beginning to fill his eyes “The devil ain’t happy when you insult his work, so unless you want to look uglier than that attempt at a tie design Mr Purple was wearing” a perverse smirk forming as ill humour mixed with controlling rage in Edgar’s pounding head “and your boss ain’t going to be happy that you went and beat on the gates of hell like you did” gun fixated in Black Tie’s direction, a more dangerously fixated glare aimed at Mr Stylish which was subduing the rapidly whitening figure now hunching back into a corner.

Black Tie’s puffed chest was now constricted, an edge of readiness in the hand lingering near his gun and nervously poised to react as with a distinctly measured manner he spoke very slowly “My colleague was out of term” examining Edgar’s features closely for any slight response, letting out a relieved but stunted breath upon seeing no further reaction “and I think you said what all of us were thinking about that tie” forced laughter stifled in length and volume as he attempted to use humour to diffuse the threateningly escalated confrontation, Black Tie further attempting to deescalate it by distancing his hand at a deliberately calm pace from his sheathed gun “I’m going to call my boss and we’ll sort it out without further violence” such a strict turnaround from macho posturing to reserved calm fuelling the whole bar’s newly hushed air of suspended fear.

The officer stood, bottle in hand and gun sheathed “Edgar you need to listen to me” speaking as deliberately calm as Black Tie to the purely black eyed Edgar, mildly pulsating black veins evident where his skin was visible “you are in a combat induced state and you need alcohol to restore your control” adding with even more passively calm tones, only showing slight signs of the frightened panic screaming in his head “you are a person and not a harbinger, this is not a battlefield” the officer’s training, kicking in with mounting efficiency to further settle his forcible restrained manner, the officer knowing painfully well that when a harbinger ‘black blooded’ as the common lingo called it, that it would take a lot more than a couple of stun shots to take them down

Into the fretfully settled chaos a new figure entered the bar with careful pace, so not to set off the hair trigger situation threateningly ready to explode “I see my employees are not only stupid but full blown delinquents” the man confidently staring down the combat ready Edgar with unnerving steel, a beeline towards the bar to help himself to an abandoned drink as he casually nursed the glass in his hand, before taking a leisurely sip with seemingly unnatural coolness “and I must apologize my old friend, my man was told to ‘politely’ invite you to my office but I gauge he may have overstepped” a subtle nod with his eerily still features towards the still remnant blood smear on the bar as with a curious smirk he readily recollected “this is like the last time we met up for a drink, but I distinctly recall an easy blonde and two bottles of something bitterly strong were involved” the strangers remark making absolutely everyone breathe a sigh of relief, as the taught posture of Edgar’s rage induced state softened slightly.

“Well you told the blondes husband I had lured her over” Edgar’s characteristically wry delivery returning with pace now “and told me she was single” Edgar’s eyes returning to their still white colour, piecing rings of red to outline cold black pupils “and I’ve got a guiltily empty hand so I might need that bottle to fill it” a slight gesture towards the officer, whose quickly reactive instincts put the offered bottle in Edgar’s tight grip.

The new man on the scene was wearing an emblazoned red shirt, expertly tailored suit long coat and an oddly stylish pair of combat trousers and with a more energetic flare he witfully added “That blonde was single the moment we entered the bar, and her other half” musingly looking down at Purple Tie, crinkled lines forming at the edge of his vicious grin “the husband at least lasted two rounds longer than my employees” as with a gesture he guided Edgar towards a shadowy corner booth, two fresh glasses in hand to perfectly match the bottle Edgar now held.

Black Tie and Mr Stylish coolly removed Purple Tie’s slouched corpse with some loudly huffed exertion, the officer offering a respectful salute to Red Shirt and Edgar before confidently swaggering out of the bar as easily as he entered. The Barman idle returning to his cleaning duties, another eventful day on a god forbidden colony barely enough to stir the drunken patrons thirsting for more liquid escapism.

To Become Death; In The Pursuit Of Life

Love; the great saviour

Love; the great deceiver

We pursue the sacred feeling through every blackened, burnt out and hellish landscape we know but is it really a cure?

The blindly devout follower of positive instinct in me craves it, lusts for a safely redeeming hint of that sweet escape from reality’s damnation

The passionately dark Sharman of truth casts the word as a curse, a dangerously infectious idea that blinds it’s prey with merciless efficiency before the strike

I want to believe it will remedy my ills with a soothing malaise of healing calm, the ice to violently supress the volcano of negatively emotive feelings that burn my very skin with depressive pain

But the devoutly truthful Sharman’s words strike with as much painful regret as love’s own dagger, each a kindred in terms of purest power and impact upon my fractured state

Where the blade ends and my flesh starts twistedly merges into unholy mess, wilful offering of my body into the trap the most bitterly felt betrayal as poison metal makes it’s home amongst the other daggers protruding from my back

How I long to see the reassuringly red flecks of life proudly interrupting the black oily substance flowing through my veins, such endless nothing now so strong as to take physical form, and the truly disturbing reality that stems from this bleak realisation…

When the venomous black ooze spills from my wounded flesh, acidic smoke as it eats into the most hardened veneer of honest innocence; that I am the cause of the very much resented suffering that I have vowed to never cause

Love; the great saviour

Love; the great deceiver

In my broken, fractured and blackened state how would I even know how to tell which statement is truth, and which verse is merely a self-protecting lie

The Reality

And there it is, the glaring cliff of realisation threateningly looking up into your cold dead eyes

A morbidly experienced activity of counting those who you trust draws on a grimly found zero, old friends drifted into the void of time as close family are there but ever drawn into their own increasingly busy lives, then you; the keeper of secrets, betrayer of self and ultimately in that damning realm of depressive pain; the only one walking by your side

A massed horde of faces crowding you every day only sees the illusive front stonily protecting whatever it is you have become, their idea of your reality pathetically just a myriad of features you clinically cut into shapes and appropriate size to appease their simple preconceptions enforced over time

Now secured in the prison safe facility that is the toxic refuge you bitterly call home, a sole chair facing the barred windows and a single glass cast idle in the sink, now swigging straight from the bottle labelled life with not so much as an attempt at feigning concern you see the only two options which cursedly remain; which side of the head to rest the barrel of the gun and when to shoot

The ghostly whisper of a thought hanging in the gun smoke; will they see the next fatal events as a mercy killing or self-inflicted wounds, will anyone care!

Dating Profiles and how NOT to write them!

Going by the sheer lack of positive responses over months/years/adult life from any form of female life it would appear I am more undesirable than an undead, hunch backed and openly canibal axe murderer at a wedding, who just knocked over the cake and spilt red wine on the bride’s dress to boot!

So I’m going to write my shopping list here and accept the fact that it’ll be diner for one until my mortal form expires, and should that axe murdering canibal want to invite me to his wedding as I suspect he will have more success than me; then I’ll add ‘human seasoning’ to my list, so at least then I can be part of his wedding diner and feel useful!!

Toilet paper
Kitchen towel
Milk – 2x 1pt green
Fresh pasta
Pasta sauce
Bread
Chewy bars/breakfast bars
Yogurt
Cereal
Biscuits
Chocs
Human seasoning
Olive spread
Eggs
Cheese
Salami Slices

PS; If you think I’ve left anything off my list feel free to let me know

Feb 14th

Her

The sight of…

Weakened by news from all corners that creates painful echoes of the lacking happiness and hollow pits in your own life where love should be

An emotional fugitive slips free of logic’s chains in an instant of weakening frivolity

A glitch occurs as you threaten to approach her and offer the most meagre of words

Rejection from the last time you asked purposely rejected so to propel an illusion it is not the screamingly bad idea you know it to be

She fades into background as you pause and leaves the space empty of wanted eyes as now you wander if she glimpsed the fire in your eyes

Logic’s hounds mercilessly drag bloodied emotion back into its cursed cage as free of poison temptation you accept the futility of finding love

The rarest of moments gone again in the decimal hell of mathematical impossibility that you will have such opportunity again

The moment is merely another ghost now in a graveyard of failed pleads to put misery’s heartbreak to rest in one of the many graves you only hope to fill

Ghosts of when you thought you might recover the status of ‘human’ and be happy again

Fire leaving your eyes as again ice consumes the fledgling hope born of a glitch in the system that forces mercenary rules upon the emotionless landscape of your mind

The system of survival that only ever accepts death as a reality in life’s bleak nothingness

Another Feb 14th passes without note

An Observation

                      “Maybe Valentines was created by all the happy horde who couldn’t stomach the sight of bleak nothing for four darkly lit weeks, those accustomed to death without dying content to bask in cold sunshine and relish the lack of pretence this dead month exposes with empty vistas of frozen fields and bare trees”

Happy Penguin Day

This 14th Feb I will be signing off the morbidly relished affair of guiltily given kinky sex by wives who want to impress the men in their life, bank busting rose collections and three month ago booked diner reservations for the men trying to show their wives that they still love them enough to destroy their credit ratings

Signing it off with a classic Penguin Day celebration, enjoying a night in and admiring the view of my kingdom that I have hard earned, free of the evil shackles of social demands that by this age I be married, with kids and a rubbish credit rating!

Penguin Day you ask?

Well in the artic a host of civilised penguins will be admiring the view of the frozen tundra, every beauty soaked vista view complimented by the clink of martini glasses stylishly branded as they mark the occasion without messily demanded emotional bullshit

Whether in the company of well earned comrades or in the quiet blanket of solitary existence, they will be marking the occasion in style and so will I

So Happy Penguin Day all!

The View from the Shadows

It’s when happiness hurts you more than despair
That you have fallen into the shadows of where the world rejoices
And are beyond the reach of those who live in the light of happiness
Becoming alien to even those you once called friend
The biggest disappointment felt when lost in that black ocean…
…that death has yet to find you and it hurts more to live than to accept death